


siblings

by breadofthewild



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Related, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Gen, Half-Siblings, Pre-Canon, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Siblings, Step-siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breadofthewild/pseuds/breadofthewild
Summary: A nostalgia trip.
Kudos: 19





	siblings

**Author's Note:**

> hello i love the blue lion siblings and wanted to write abt them...also can u tell i have no idea how to write mercedes and jeritza as characters lol
> 
> (naturally my favorite is edelgard and dimitri's section since it's nice and a n g s t y )

"Huh? The mountains?"

A small orange-haired boy cocked his head to the side as he looked on at his older brother all geared up in winter clothes. It was snowing outside in the land of Faerghus, and nobody would dare venture out near the mountains in this weather. Not if they had a death wish on them.

"Yes, they're not too far from here. You'll join me, won't you?" Miklan said, tying his laces together in neat, even loops. He held a basket through one arm, and once he finished with his shoes, he stood.

"I—but Father said—"

"Forget about what Father said," Miklan waved, gesturing dismissively. He plastered on a smile across his scarred face, bending his knees to reach Sylvain's height. "I'm your older brother. I can watch over you just fine."

Sylvain twiddled with his thumbs, clenching and unclenching his fists. Finally, he nodded at his older brother, because he knew he could trust him. It was only a quick journey to gather supplies, and after all, what was the worst that could happen?

Sylvain quickly laced his own shoes together in a flurry so Margrave Gautier wouldn't notice his two sons slipping out into the dangerous blizzard. Sylvain didn't know any better; he was only a kid. But still, he followed his brother wherever he went. He took Miklan's hand in his as they opened the doors and set out for the mountains.

In a few years' time, Sylvain will remember the exact moment Miklan left him there to die. He will remember the look of hatred his older brother bore, a look filled with vengeance and within it, a hint of jealousy. Miklan will have pushed his younger brother down one last time into the snow before disappearing within the blizzard, leaving Sylvain to freeze.

Sylvain will remember this when he sees the same vengeance in those eyes after believing he'd never seen them again.

"Miklan, why are you doing this?" Sylvain asks, his eyebrows knitted together. He knew he'd encounter his brother here at Conand Tower, the cause of this mission in the first place, but Sylvain never seemed to want to believe it until he saw it with his own eyes.

But here he is, looking straight at the brother who's hated him all his life.

" _You_. Why are _you_ here? You're always standing in my way," Miklan seethes. His grip isn't letting go of the Lance of Ruin, and the weapon is pulsing with a divine energy that gradually taints it red.

However, nobody notices it yet.

"You've hated me just because I bear a Crest and you don't. How is that fair? I didn't choose to live this life," Sylvain spat, gritting his teeth. He sat a little taller atop his horse. "How is anything you're doing justifying anything at all? Tell me, Miklan. I'm dying to know."

"Shut up, you little brat," Miklan roars. "There's no way you'd ever understand how I feel. You're all just a bunch of spoiled children!"

In that moment, the Lance of Ruin glows a blinding red. The Stone in the center illuminates the dark Conand Tower, but what crawls out of it is stained black. A black substance comes oozing out of its center, making its way up Miklan's arm and grabbing hold of him as if it were alive.

"What the hell?" Miklan curses, prying at the black goop with his free hand. The substance continued to crawl across his skin, covering every inch, and before it could envelop his head over his eyes, Miklan looked at Sylvain one last time.

His eyes were not filled with vengeance anymore. They were filled with fear.

✧

"Don't tell me you don't know how to dance," a young brown-haired girl jeered with a smirk on her face. "Come on, Dimitri! How could you _not_ know?"

Dimitri folded his hands together and fidgeted under the intense glare of his stepsister, stammering. "I—I'm not sure, El. No one ever taught me." His downcast eyes resembled those of a puppy's, and Edelgard could only laugh at the mere sight of the prince.

"Who would've thought the prince of the Kingdom didn't know how to dance? Well, no worries. I'll teach you," Edelgard offered, extending her hand towards Dimitri. "I can start giving you lessons now."

"Now? Like at this very second?" Dimitri asked, incredulous. He peered at Edelgard's small palms still reaching outwards towards him, and he hesitantly took them in his. Her grasp was firm around his, fierce and determined. El smiled.

"Alright. First, let me teach you the basics."

Hours passed, and Dimitri hadn't learned any new skills in the art of dancing one bit. Edelgard grew weary after a while, pressuring him into taking the right steps without messing up again, yelling when he got the footing wrong. He fumbled and tripped and bumped into El more times than he could count—and each time would cause an awkward apology, and then they were back to dancing. Edelgard was nothing short of a strict instructor, never losing focus on the task at hand, even at her young age.

El sighed, sitting on the grass under a nearby tree. She rested her hands in her lap, pursing her lips in concentration. She put a finger to her chin, then cast her eyes over to Dimitri, trying to figure out what she could do with this boy.

"Sorry, El. I guess I'm just no good at this kind of stuff," Dimitri apologized, his hands falling to his sides as if in disappointment. He joined El beside her as he quietly sat down beneath the tree.

"No, no. We can't give up. I swear I'll get you dancing even if my life depends on it!" El exclaimed, her fist thrust into the air in sudden enthusiasm. She was always determined, even in the smallest ways possible; and Dimitri will always remember that factor about her the most. Over the course of a few weeks, Dimitri will trip so many times that bruises will start to form on his knees, but Edelgard will pay no mind—in fact, she'll see it as progress. Each day the two of them would escape to the courtyard to practice their techniques, and eventually, Dimitri started to remember the correct placing of his feet and rhythm in which he had to stride. After countless attempts, El finally looked on at Dimitri with pride at what she had accomplished.

In a few years' time, they will see each other enrolled at the Officers Academy. Neither one will try to initiate conversation of their past to the other, but there will always be the underlying truth right beneath their skin—they were once best friends, silly children dancing under the stars. They had a history, but one long forgotten, because they both knew what had come to pass in the years they were without each other.

Neither of them are the same people they used to be.

The Ethereal Moon will come faster than expected, exciting the students with the news of a grand ball to be held. The two Lords aren't as excited as the others, but they certainly did have something to look forward to.

After all, who didn't like dancing?

The music starts up in a low hum but slowly strings out to a soft melody. Classmates pair up and take the dance floor, gliding across the tiles in effortless strides as they gaze at each other. A student asks Edelgard if he can have this dance, and she accepts despite Hubert's menacing glare at the thought of someone unworthy taking the Adrestian princess to the center of the floor. A student also asks Dimitri for a dance, and he happily obliges with a charming smile.

It's almost as if fate guided the two of them to the dance floor at exactly the same time. Neither one of them notices the other at first since they're both focused on their respective partners, but there is always a feeling, a thought. The emotions of nostalgia, reminiscence, and bittersweetness coursing through their veins as they remember the last time they danced with someone prior to this ball—the time Edelgard taught a friend how to dance, and the time Dimitri learned from a friend how to.

Neither of them forget about those days, even though they pretend they do. And when their backs graze against each other's for just a few moments on the crowded dance floor, they will turn for just a moment to catch a glimpse of red and a glimpse of blue.

☽

A small girl peeked through the door of her brother's bedroom, her eyes scanning his messy room. When she finally saw him sitting atop his bed and looking out the window, she cracked the door open completely.

"Emile," Mercedes called, the sound of her voice making Emile jump. "Mom made some treats!"

"I told you not to scare me like that!" Emile cried, tossing a pillow at his older sister. She dodged just in time to dive onto her brother's bed, tackling him until he threw his arms up in surrender.

"Your big sister wins again!" Mercedes happily announces, hopping off the bed gracefully and looking back towards her brother. He crossed his arms and pouted his lips, accepting his defeat.

The two of them trudge downstairs to the main dining hall, and their mother is in the kitchen baking more pastries. The extravagant smell of sweets filled the children's noses from all the way down the hall, and Mercedes breaks out into a run to challenge her little brother to a race. "Not fair!" Emile shouts as she dashes past him, laughing.

Their mother places a tray of tarts on the counter, humming a tune to herself. She's washing her hands at the sink when she yells at her children to stop running in the halls, but the instruction falls on deaf ears. Mercedes bursts through the doors with her arms held up high in victory, Emile colliding into her back shortly after. The two children collapse into a heap of laughs, their mother striding over to shoot them a stern look from the corner of her eye.

"Sorry, Mother," Mercedes apologized, standing quickly to her feet. "It was my idea to have a race to begin with."

Her mother shakes her head in dismay, but can't stay mad at the children as they rush towards the counter and swipe two tarts each from the tray. She tousles her kids' hair as they make their way to sit at the long dining table, tea already laid out for them to indulge in.

"Say, Emile, what do you want to be when you're older?" Mercedes asks, stuffing her face with the last bit of her first tart. She takes a hasty sip from her teacup, even after many attempts of their mother's berating that they had to be proper at the table.

"Hm? Me?" Emile says, his mouth full of custard. There are crumbs all over his face, and Mercedes laughs as she reaches across the table and wipes Emile's mouth with a handkerchief.

"Yes, silly, you. I know what I want to be," Mercedes responds, falling back into her seat. She eats the second tart more gingerly, less messily, and doesn't wait for Emile to ask her to go on. "I want to be a person who helps people. Anywhere where I can act as a big sis is good enough for me!"

"But you're already _my_ big sis," Emile counters, sipping his tea and sloppily wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "And what's so fun about helping others anyway?"

"It's fun because then I'll know I'm being useful," Mercedes laughs, only half joking. Emile rolls his eyes and swallows his second tart, swiping the crumbs on the table onto the floor discreetly.

"But, you know," Mercedes continues after a while, her plate still left with half a tart atop it. "I suppose I just want to help others because it makes you feel important. That's what I like about being a big sister." She smiles at her stepbrother, a smile so sweet that Emile still isn't used to the warmth it radiates.

Mercedes and Emile sit in silence then, pondering the former's words, thinking about what it meant for the both of them. Emile was only seven, and Mercedes only eight, so they were still young and free and had plenty of time to think about their futures. But in a few years' time, Mercedes' dream never comes to change, but Emile's only ever gets darker.

More than ten years will pass since that conversation, and when Mercedes enrolls at the Officers Academy, she will see a teacher that reminds her of her brother. She will see the face of Emile under that mask, and she will see the eyes of him as well when he introduces himself as a professor called Jeritza.

It's been more than ten years. Mercedes knows that it would've been a crazy coincidence for her brother to be here at the same time as her, except as a professor rather than a student. She will shrug the feeling off her shoulders, distracting herself with keeping up with new friends and studies. She will keep her distance when she sees Jeritza in the training grounds and rarely anywhere else, and she will keep suppressing her hopes that the man standing before her is truly the brother she once left.

Jeritza will know. He will know because her student information confirms everything that he will ever wonder, and he will frown at the thought of a reunion with the sister that once left him. It won't be because Mercedes and their mother left him in House Bartels on his own—no, Emile knew it was for the best.

He just knows he isn't the person Mercedes remembered him to be anymore.

♞

Nobody was awake in Fraldarius territory this early in the morning save for Glenn, who, in the process of getting ready, clumsily tripped over his feet and tumbled down the stairs and awoke Felix.

"What the hell?" Felix grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he opened his bedroom door to find his brother in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. He was wide awake now, quirking an eyebrow at the sight. It was still dark outside, so Felix quietly tiptoed down the stairs to see what had happened to Glenn.

"Goddamn it," Glenn groaned as he held his head in his hand. Felix kicked his brother gently on the leg, a look of confusion on his face. Glenn yelped at the sight of his younger brother appearing before him without making a sound, Felix's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What in the world are you doing, Glenn? It isn't even dawn," Felix whispered, Glenn's silhouette finally standing upright. Glenn sighed, tucking some stray strands of hair behind his ear.

"Don't tell the old man, alright? I just wanted to sneak out to get in a bit of training."

Felix looked at his older brother with a hint of annoyance.

"Training? At this hour? Are you insane?" The moon illuminated the two of their faces, casting long shadows down the hall. In the light, Felix could see Glenn's neat and tidy hair tied up in a bun, and Glenn could see Felix's messy bedhead covering part of his eyes.

"No, not insane. Just determined. And now that you know about it, I'm forcing you to come train with me," Glenn ordered, turning to continue on down the hallway. Felix yelled out a few words of objection, only to be silenced by Glenn's "shhh"s. Eventually, he sighed, running quietly back into his room to retrieve his sword and following the footsteps of his older brother.

They trained until the sun came up, peeking from under the horizon. Rodrigue will eventually find his two sons fast asleep in the courtyard, their training swords perched up against the tree they lay under. He will consider reprimanding them for sleeping somewhere other than their own rooms, but he will stop himself when he sees the newly formed calluses on Glenn's fingers. He will notice that it wasn't two swords by the tree like his eyes assumed, because Glenn's sword is still being held in his hands.

Rodrigue understands the idea. Tomorrow is supposed to be the ceremony in which Glenn becomes an official knight of the Royal Guard, and as much as Rodrigue prides his son on the fact that Glenn is only 15 and already a knight, he still worries as a father that he is overdoing it.

All Rodrigue can do is give his sons a small smile, even though they are both fast asleep. He will lecture his sons later, and for the rest of the day, the only thing he will be able to think about is the warm thought of Felix following his brother's footsteps.

In a few years' time, Felix will be holding his blade in the training grounds of the Officers Academy. He will be sparring against his new professor, a stone-faced teacher with a gift for the ways of the sword. Felix will only be thinking about how to win, those thoughts the only thing occupying his mind every time he fights. He won't be thinking as clearly as he usually does when Byleth overwhelms him and throws him down onto the floor with the push of her blade against his.

"You fought well," she will say, extending her hand towards him. And she will ask Felix something he never seems to be able to forget, a question that haunts him even though he knows it shouldn't.

"Why are you so focused on becoming stronger?"

Felix will say he's never quite thought about that before since it never crossed his mind. But in reality, he won't be able to admit that it's because he's been trying to surpass Glenn for his whole life.


End file.
